Bad Day
by Maya Tamika
Summary: After Arthur's wife leaves him, he falls into depression and can't imagine trying to raise his twin sons on his own. Then a miracle by the name of Francis Bonnefoy drops into his lap and turns his life around. FrUK fluff and FACE family. Rated for language and mild innuendo. Inspired by a video on YouTube (link inside).


"Tell me Arthur, how did you meet your husband?"

Arthur sighed and sipped his tea, "well, I suppose I should start with my wife."

"Your wife?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, "she was very beautiful. Her name was Alice. We were childhood sweethearts. That's all you need to know. We grew up together, until high school. She was sent away to a private school for girls. I missed her terribly. I was so lonely. You should have seen me back then. You wouldn't have recognised me. She came back after graduation. We attended college together, and eventually became a couple, but she was different than she had been before high school. I still don't know what changed her. Anyway, we got married, and I was happy, but..."

* * *

"Arthur, I'm home!" Alice called.

Arthur stood and went into the entrace hall to kiss his wife, "tell me the good news!"

Alice smiled, slightly sadly, "they're twins. Two boys."

"Two boys? Twins?" Arthur's green eyes lit up, "Alice, that's wonderful!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around.

"Yes, yes, Arthur," Alice replied. She tried to look happy, but Arthur saw the sadness in her eyes.

"Alice," he set her down, "what's wrong?"

She tucked a lock of her golden hair behind her ear and smiled at him nervously, "nothing's wrong, Arthur. I promise."

Her cell phone rang. She took it out and glanced at the number, "excuse me. It's my boss." And off she walked, leaving Arthur to stare worriedly after her.

During the months of Alice's pregnancy, Arthur continuously found himself wandering the park. He kicked at the leaves throughout autumn, watching them swirl back down to the ground. Something was missing from his relationship with Alice. He just wished he could figure out what.

The nights grew longer and the days grew colder. Christmas came and went, then New Year. Alice became increasingly distant. But she always had an excuse:

"It's the pregnancy."

"I'm just tired."

"My boss asked me to work late."

Valentine's Day came, but despite all Arthur had planned for Alice, she simply blew him off, barely even noticing his presence. Arthur's birthday came and went, and Alice had to be reminded of it, something that had never happened before.

Finally, July arrived.

The first of the boys was born on July first, but there was a medical complication, and the doctors halted the labour for three days. The seond boy was born on July fourth. Despite the complication, both were healthy and beautiful. The main difference between them was their eyes. The first had eyes that were almost violet, while the second had beautiful sky blue eyes.

Arthur pestered his wife for the names of their sons. She hadn't said anything about their names, and she refused to.

Then it happened. On the day she was released from the hospital, she had been carrying the older boy while Arthur carried the yonger. They reached the car, then she handed the boy to Arthur, turned and walked away without a word. Arthur stared after her, wondering how he was supposed to get his sons home without her help.

Then it hit him. She was leaving him.

"A-Alice!" he called after her, "Alice?"

She turned, smiled sadly at him, then turned away again and kept walking.

"Alice!" he yelled. Tears filled his eyes, "Alice, don't go! At least tell me why!"

She didn't. She just kept walking.

Arthur had no idea how, but he got the boys home. He looked at them: one with violet eyes and one with blue.

"Matthew," he said to the one with violet eyes. He turned to the other, "Alfred. Now I've just got to figure out how I'm going to raise you two as a single dad."

As it turned out, the boys were a handful. Especially once they started walking and talking. Matthew spent his time making a mess in the kitchen, while Alfred spent his roaming around the house, being noisy and making a mess in general.

Matthew turned out to be shy and quiet around strangers, but he made sure that around the house everyone knew what he wanted and when. Alfred was loud and obnoxious and ran around yelling and playing cowboy while dragging around his favourite toy: a stuffed alien he had named Tony. He constantly tried to get Matthew in on his games, but Matthew was convinced that his time was better spent spreading flour on his face or playing with his stuffed polar bear, which he called Kumajirou. The boys also had a set of toy soldiers that Arthur had made for them, but Alfred took to them more than Matthew.

Of course, there were good times. Like at night, when he read the boys stories before bed. They often fell asleep in his arms and he tucked them in with a kiss to the forehead each. Or the times on weekends when Arthur wasn't too tired and he took them to the park and the three of them ran around, just enjoying each other's company.

But then there were the times when Arthur didn't sleep; when he sat up alone, missing Alice. He knew he should move on, maybe find someone else, but he couldn't bring himself to. She was irreplacable in his mind. The same thing happened at the park, when the boys ran off on their own and all he did was sit on a park bench with tears in his eyes. Or before the boys got home from daycare, and later, school, and he stood barefoot in the middle of the floor, staring at the mess they had made, and wondered how different it would be if Alice was there to help him clean it up.

Quite often, he sat up after he had put the twins to bed and curled up in the fetal position on the couch. He wondered if he should get help, but continuously rationalised that he didn't need it. For his sons' sake, he put on a brave face, and if they ever caught him crying, he quickly shooed them away. If they asked about their mother, he quietly discouraged them.

Naturally, the boys fought. They fought often. Often enough to begin to drive Arthur mad. Usually, it was because Alfred had stolen Matthew's polar bear, which he was rarely seen without when he was at home, but it might also be because of something at school, or something as trivial as what to have for supper, which they had no say over anyway, except on their birthdays.

It didn't take long before Arthur was at his wit's end. He had hired a babysitter many times before, but never for this reason. He retreated to a bar and began drowing his sorrows. He thought of how lonely he was since Alice left him. He hadn't tried to find anyone else. No one could replace her. Not ever. He thought about his boys, and how often they fought. Sure, there were good times, but he was convinced that the bad times were far more numerous.

"I'm the world's worst dad," he moaned, dropping his head onto his arms on the bar.

"Then why are you here?" a heavly accented voice asked.

Arthur looked up to see a man with shoulder length, wavy blonde hair that reminded him very much of what Matthew's hair looked like and his eyes were blue, like Alfred's.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"If you're such a terrible papa, why are you sitting here getting drunk?" the man asked, "that won't fix anything."

Arthur thought for a moment. He was right; it wouldn't fix anything.

"But, what can I do?" he asked, his words slurred.

"Well, that's up to you," the man replied.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Non. At least, not the way you want me to," the man replied, "but I can tell you that you're only making it worse by sitting here getting drunk. That's how habits start. And alchoholic fathers are the worst. Trust me, mine was one."

Arthur was just sober enough to finally identify the accent as French.

"Tell me what to do," Arthur begged.

"_Je ne peux pas_," the man replied. Luckily, Arthur understood just enough French to translate the sentence to, 'I can't'.

"Then why are you sitting here telling me how to run my life?" Arthur gulped at his drink, cringing at the bitter taste.

"I am not telling you how to run your life," the man replied, "I am telling you that you should be home with your children, not here getting drunk."

"Why does it even matter to you?" Arthur was getting impatient.

The man was not. He must have done this before, "because I cannot stand to see another family get messed up over something silly like booze."

"Something silly?" Arthur demanded, "my wife left me the day she got out of my hospital after giving birth. I have two boys running around my house destroying everything and you call that silly? I don't know what to do with them! I've never been a father before!"

"Who says you need experience? It's a learning process," the man answered.

"And you have this experience?"

"_Oui_..." the man said slowly, "but my son and husband died in a car crash three years ago."

That sobered Arthur a bit, "oh my god. I'm so sorry."

The man shook his head, "it is in the past. Don't be. I have learned to live on without them. They are in a better place."

"And yet here you are, in a bar, getting drunk. And you have the gall to tell me how to run my life."

"Actually, I am here looking for someone."

"Who?"

"I do not know yet. I am trying to start another family."

"Wait, did you say husband?"

The man nodded.

"You're gay?"

Again, the man nodded.

Arthur turned back to his drink.

"Hey," the man said, handing Arthur a piece of paper, "if you need help with your sons, just ask, okay?"

Arthur looked down at the paper. It said, 'Francis Bonnefoy' with seven numbers underneath, "why are you giving me this?"

"I know how hard being a papa is. And you have two and no one to help you. So if you need help, give me a call," the man replied.

Arthur stared at the paper for a moment, "how do I know you're not some sort of pedophile who wants to rape my sons?"

"Well, I don't have much, but," the man dug in his pocket for a moment, then took out his wallet and showed Arthur a few pictures. One was of a handsome man with dark hair, another was of a young boy. Yet another depicted Francis, the man and the boy all together, the boy resting on the man's hip, all three of them smiling broadly, "I know it is not the best proof, but that was my family."

Arthur stared at the pictures for a while, then finished his drink and stood, "I'm going home. My sons need me. And I feel sorry for that poor babysitter I left them with."

"Um, you probably should not drive right now," Francis said, following Arthur out of the bar, "you are not exactly sober."

"I'll be fine," Arthur replied.

"No, please. I insist. Let me give you a ride," Francis said, blocking Arthur's progress with his arm, "I cannot in good conscience let you drive yourself home right now."

Arthur sighed in frustration. He didn't want to argue with this man, but it was clear he wasn't getting home alone, "fine."

They took Arthur's car (Francis apparently lived within walking distance and hadn't brought his) and Arthur gave directions to his house.

"What is you name?" Francis asked.

"Arthur...Kirkland," Arthur replied, still more-or-less quite drunk.

"What are your sons like, Arthur?"

"Well, Matthew's a mess maker. He likes getting into things he shouldn't. Like the kitchen."

This sparked Francis's interest, but he didn't press the topic, "and your other son?"

"Alfred's rowdy. He likes to play cowboy with his alien. And start fights with his brother."

"How old are they?"

"Seven."

"Twins?" Francis guessed.

Arthur nodded, "what are the odds?"

"What do you mean?"

"My wife and I...we didn't exactly do it very often."

"Well, sometimes once is all it takes."

"What do you know about that? Aren't you gay?"

Some people might have taken offense at that, but when Francis considered that the man next to him wasn't exactly sober not to mention he just didn't give a fuck anyway, he wasn't about to be offended by some dumb comment like that, "_oui_. I am. But that doesn't mean I never took sex-ed. Though I did take it _au Francais_."

"Oh, yeah," the drunk man said.

Francis drove to the house and dropped Arthur off, leaving the car parked neatly in the driveway. It was a bit of a walk back to his house, but he didn't mind. He liked to walk.

The next morning, Arthur drank a strong pot of coffee then downed about a gallon of water along with a generous amount of ibuprofen.

"That was stupid," he said to himself, "that man was right. I'm not going to do that again. I need to be here for my boys."

"Daddy! Daddy!" Matthew's voice called as said boy ran into the room, "daddy, Al stole Kuma again!"

Arthur sighed and stood. His headache was definitely better than it had been, but it wasn't by any means gone. Not yet. With any luck, it would be in a few hours. He followed Matthew to the room he shared with Alfred, where the younger twin was standing on his bed, holding Matthew's stuffed polar bear.

"Alfred, give Kuma back to Matthew," Arthur said.

"But daddy..." Alfred protested.

"Now, Alfred," Arthur put a hand to his head. He definitely wasn't in the mood for this. But if he didn't do it, no one would, and it needed to be done.

Reluctantly, Alfred got off the bed and gave Kuma to Matthew, who immediately hugged the bear close to his chest.

Arthur knelt down so he was eye-level with his sons, "Alfred, why did you take Matthew's bear?"

Alfred looked down at the floor, "I...I thought it'd be funny."

"Did Matthew think it was funny?" Arthur asked.

"No..."

"You need to think about other people, Alfred. Remember that not everyone thinks the same things are funny. Now apologise to your brother."

Alfred slowly turned to Matthew, "I'm sorry Matthew."

Matthew said nothing.

"Matthew, what do you say?" Arthur asked.

Matthew pursed his lips definantly, "it's okay, Alfred."

"Thank you both. Now, we need to go shopping before the store gets too busy," Arthur stood up, "so please get dressed right now."

Both boys did as he asked and the three of them clambered into the car. Arthur drove to the grocery store, his headache gradually easing, though the two chatterboxes in the back didn't help at all. They arrived and Arthur set Matthew in the cart while Alfred walked.

"Can I ride in the cart daddy?" Alfred asked.

"You know we always switch halfway through," Arthur replied with more patience in his voice than he felt.

"But Mattie always goes first!" Alfred complained.

"No I don't! You do!" Matthew replied defiantly.

"I never go first!" Alfred replied, his voice high-pitched and whiny.

"Alfred, don't whine," Arthur said, "you'll get your chance in the cart."

"Why can't I be first?" Alfred asked loudly.

"Because you were first last time!" Matthew replied, his voice also rising in volume.

"Boys! You'll both get your turn in the cart," Arthur did his best to keep his voice calm. He wished Alice was here to help. She could have another cart and they'd both get the chance to ride the entire time.

"But Mattie gets to ride in the cart more than I do! His turns are always longer!" Alfred whined.

"Alfred, what did I just say about whining?" Arthur asked.

"They are not! Yours are!" Matthew replied in the same tone of voice.

"Are not!" Alfred shot back.

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

Arthur felt despair rise in his chest, and with a heavy sigh, his head came to rest on his arms, which were draped carelessly across the handle of the cart.

A gentle hand rested on his back and a voice said, "_bonjour, mon ami_. Do you need help?"

Arthur raised his head and looked at the man. Something about his wavy shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes seemed familiar. Suddenly, it hit him.

"Oh! You're the one I met at the bar last night," Arthur announced.

"_Oui, c'est moi_," Francis replied, "I'm surprised you remember me."

"I wasn't that drunk!" Arthur protested.

"I suppose not," Francis gestured to the boys who were still arguing, "do you need any help?"

Arthur watched his sons for a minute, then sighed again, "you know what? That'd be great."

Francis walked to the boys, "_bonjour, petits_."

The twins stopped arguing and looked up at him with curious expressions.

"My name is Francis. What's yours?" Francis asked.

"I'm Alfred," Alfred volunteered immediately.

"M-Matthew," Matthew said quietly.

"Alfred, do you want to ride in the cart like Matthieu?" Francis asked. Arthur was impressed for a moment before he realised that Francis had probably seen the whole thing.

"Uh-huh," Alfred replied eagerly.

"Would you like to ride in my cart?" Francis asked.

Alfred's eyes widened, "can I, daddy?"

Arthur nodded.

"I'd love to, mister!" Alfred announced.

Francis's cart was only a few feet behind Arthur's. He brought it up next to Arthur and lifted Alfred effortlessly into it. He leaned over so only Arthur could hear him, "Matthieu won't be jealous, will he?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head, "he'll think he got the better end of the deal. He's very shy around strangers."

"With any luck, I won't be a stranger for long," Francis said before pushing his hard ahead of Arthur's.

Arthur blinked in surprise, then came up beside Francis again, "wait, what do you mean?"

"I told you if you need help, I will be here to help," Francis replied, "you look like you will need a lot of help."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then smiled softly, "thank you Francis. And you're right. I need all the help I can get."

And that was all it took for Francis to suddenly become very busy. Somehow, and neither Arthur nor Francis knew how, Francis ended up spending a slowly increasing amount of time at Arthur's house. Arthur came to trust him more and more, and even had Francis babysit the boys once so that he could go out and enjoy time alone. Francis had been more than happy to comply, and Arthur had returned to find both boys safely sound asleep in their beds and Francis asleep on his couch.

The boys took to Francis quickly. Naturally, Alfred had immediately liked the Frenchman, but as soon as Matthew found out that Francis was a professional chef, he opened up, and everytime Francis made dinner for them, which was quite often, Matthew asked if he could help. And of course, Francis couldn't say no.

Having Francis around made Arthur's life immesurably easier, and soon, he found himself able to laugh again. Really laugh. He had laughed with the boys, of course, but something had been different about it. Now, he could laugh like he used to when Alice was around, when she loved him. He spent fewer nights crying and slept better.

But there was one time, about two years after meeting Francis, when he couldn't sleep. He didn't know why, but something was wrong. His first instinct was to just push through, but when he shoved his hands in his pockets, he found the paper that had 'Francis Bonnefoy' and Francis's number on it. Of course, he already had Francis's number, and had called it many times, but he had forgotten that Francis had given him that paper. It was worn, and Arthur realised it had probably been through the washing machine more than once, but the words were still legible.

He thought for a moment. Was it worth it?

He decided it was and dialed the number. Francis picked up almost immediately, "_oui_? What's wrong, Arthur?"

"Francis, I..." Arthur was having trouble forming coherent thoughts, let alone coherent sentences, "I don't know...something's wrong, Francis. Something's wrong with me."

Francis was silent for a moment, then he said, "I will be right there."

And he was. Francis appeared on the doorstep and entered. Arthur had given him a spare key a long time ago. He found Arthur in the living room, curled up on the couch, tears streaming down his face.

Francis squatted next to the couch and looked at Arthur, "Arthur, _cher_, what's wrong?"

Arthur looked at the Frenchman for a moment before he confessed, "I don't know. I think I got thinking about Alice again, and..." he stopped and buried his head again.

Francis sat next to him and rubbed gentle circles into his back, "it's okay."

Then Arthur did something neither of them expected. He turned and threw his arms around Francis's neck, burying his face in the chef's chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Francis," Arthur apologised as his tears wet the other man's shirt. He wasn't even sure why he was apologising.

"Shh..." Francis crooned, gently wrapping his arms around Arthur, "don't be. It's okay."

Francis sat there, letting Arthur cry, until finally, the Englishman fell asleep. Slowly, Francis lowered himself down so he was lying down on the couch and pulled Arthur onto himself. Arthur didn't even stir. This was not the first time that Francis had stayed over, but it was the first time that he had slept with Arthur. But Arthur was straight, wasn't he?

Neither of them spoke of that night for a long time.

A while later, Arthur was talking on the phone with Francis, leaning against the counter in his kitchen. Francis was on his way over to make supper, since he had deemed Arthur's culinary skills unworthy. Then something happened that scared Arthur.

Alfred walked into the kitchen, "daddy, I need to tell you something."

"Hold on a second, Francis," Arthur said into the phone, then he turned his attention to his son, "what is it, Alfred?"

"I'm running away," and without another word, Alfred walked away.

Arthur stared at the spot where Alfred had been a moment ago, then quickly brought the phone up and spoke into it again, "Francis, Alfred just told me he's running away."

"So? Children run away all the time. They never make it far," Francis replied.

Arthur felt tears press at his eyes, "but...Alice left. What if Alfred does, too?"

"He won't leave. I can see him right now. I'll bring him back, if it worries you that much," Francis offered.

"Yes! Please!" a worried Englishman begged loudly. The line went dead. Arthur shoved his phone in his pocket and went into the living room, where he could see out to the sidewalk, where Francis was talking to Alfred.

After a minute, Francis took Alfred by the hand and led him back into the house.

"I don't want to run away, daddy!" Alfred declared, running into Arthur's arms.

"Y-you don't?" Arthur asked somewhat surprised. He had expected Alfred to do what Alice had done nine years ago.

"No!" Alfred replied, "Mr. Francis makes good food."

Arthur laughed and gently embraced his son, tears of relief flooding his cheeks.

"Papa!" Matthew suddenly declared from the stairs. He had become used to affectionately calling the Frenchman 'papa'. Alfred did so on occasion, but Matthew did it religiously. "Are you making us supper, papa?" Matthew asked eagerly.

"Yes, Matthieu," Francis replied, "would you like to help?"

"Yes!" Matthew yelled. He ran and jumped into Francis's arms.

Francis caught him easily with a hearty laugh, "come on, _petit aid_, let's make some supper." He carried Matthew into the kitchen.

"Daddy? Why are you crying?" Alfred asked, taking a step back and looking at his father.

"I'm just glad you decided to stay," Arthur replied, drying his tears.

"Why do you cry when you're happy?"

"I don't know, Alfred."

One night, Francis had stayed to tuck the boys in, as he often did, and he sat beside Arthur, looking over his shoulder, while the latter read a story to his sons, one of which was slumped over his lap, while the other was slumped over Francis's Usually, this story-reading ritual occurred on the floor, surrounded by pillows, and tonight was no different. Slowly the boys began nodding off. Matthew, who was sitting on Francis, fell asleep first, and was soon joined by Alfred.

Arthur smiled and closed the book. As he did so, Francis gently wrapped one arm around the other's waist.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked quietly, surprised.

Without answering, Francis rested his head on Arthur's shoulder and whispered, "they're little angels when they sleep. Too bad they can't be when they're awake, _non_?"

Arthur forgot Francis's arm and sighed fondly, "yes. It would be nice. But I get the feeling it would make our lives boring." Without thinking, he tipped his head and gently rested it on Francis's.

They sat like that for a while, and it wasn't until after Francis said, "we should put them to bed," that either of them moved. They tucked the boys into their beds, shut off the light, and left the room. Only after Arthur had closed the door did he remember what Francis had done.

"Francis," he asked, not making eye contact, "why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Francis asked.

"Why did you put your arm around me?"

"I wanted to see how you'd react."

"And how did I react?"

"The way I hoped you would," Francis smiled lightly, then turned and descended the stairs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, following him, "the way you wanted me to? How, exactly, did you want me to respond?"

"The way you did," Francis replied.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I will answer it. Eventually," Francis answered mysteriously, "see you tomorrow." Then he left.

As Arthur lay in bed that night, he thought about how he felt when Francis put his arm around him. He certainly didn't feel...bad. It had actually felt...nice. But it wasn't like when Alice had held him. It was better somehow. He found himself wanting Francis to do it again. And soon. _It'd be nice,_ he thought,_ to have someone share this bed with me __again__._

About a week later, they decided to go to the park. Arthur carried Alfred on his shoulders while Francis gave Matthew a piggy-back ride. Francis walked behind Arthur and watched him, and a while later, when the boys ran off on their own, Francis approached him.

"You have changed," Francis commented simply.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked sitting on a park bench.

Francis sat next to him, "I mean from when I first met you. Remember?"

Arthur chuckled, "you mean drunk as a dog in that depressing little bar? I remember."

Francis shook his head, "I mean in general. You have not gotten drunk since that night, true, but you used to be depressed all the time."

Arthur thought for a moment. Back then, life had seemed so bleak, so helpless. If it had continued the way it had been going, Arthur might have given up. And, if he was honest with himself, the person responsible was, "Francis, thank you."

"For what?" Francis asked, confused.

"Saving me. If you hadn't found me in that bar and dropped into my life like a lead balloon, I might not be here today," Arthur replied. He heard laughter behind himself and turned to look at his sons, who were playing with a few other children. Then he noticed the arm that was snaked along the back of the bench.

He smiled at Francis, "Am I reacting the way you want me to again?"

Francis raised an eyebrow and lifted half his mouth in a quirky smile, "_oui_."

Arthur scooted a little closer to Francis, "good."

Francis smiled broadly in triumph. Maybe Arthur wasn't quite as straight as Francis originally thought. Why he hadn't made his move two years ago would have been a mystery if he didn't already know why: Alice. Back then, Arthur had still been so hung up on Alice that he hadn't been ready for anything more than just a friend to trust. Francis had been that friend. And now, with Arthur being close to moving on, Francis was waiting with open arms for him to run into.

It would always be a mystery to Francis and Arthur how the boys managed to have so much energy. Soon enough, all four of them were running around, laughing and playing. Naturally, by the time they returned to the house that afternoon, the adults were drained. They ate supper and sent the boys to bed (luckily they were at the age where they didn't need a bedtime story every night), then ended up collapsing on the couch together.

With a yawn, Francis said, "I think I'll stay here tonight. I'm too tired to go home."

"Those boys really take a lot of energy, don't they?" Arthur asked, "I think I'll stay, too."

Francis chuckled, "this is your house. Where would you go?"

Arthur then surprised him by curling up into him, "my room."

Francis lay in shock for a moment, then smiled and closed his eyes.

Arthur woke up feeling very warm. There was something warm under him that moved up and down slowly, and something else was wrapped around him. The only other time he had felt something like this was that time when he and Francis had fallen asleep on the couch together.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes and looked around. The warm thing under him was Francis's chest, and it moved up and down with Francis's breathing. The thing wrapped around him was Francis's arm. With a contented sigh, Arthur closed his eyes again, snuggling into Francis's warm body.

He felt the chest under him rise quite high, then fall again as Francis yawned. He heard the other man move slightly and stretch, temporarily robbing Arthur of the warm arm around him, but it promptly returned. Francis chuckled lightly and Arthur could imagine what he was doing: he was looking at Arthur with those blue eyes, which he would then close. Arthur felt Francis shift slightly under him and he readjusted his own position to match.

The two of them lay in sweet silence for a moment more, then, "whatcha doin'?"

They both opened their eyes two see two pairs of curious eyes, one blue, the other violet, staring at them over the back of the couch.

With a yawn, Arthur sat up, "waking up."

"You look pretty sleepy still," Alfred, who had spoken before, said.

"We are," Francis replied, "Matthieu, do you want to help me with breakfast?"

The violet eyes lit up, "_oui_! _Oui_!"

"Arthur, you have to get off now," Francis teased, gently plucking at Arthur's hair.

Arthur took his time, stretching first, before he stood, giving Francis enough room to stand up. He wandered into the kitchen, Matthew right on his heels.

Arthur sat back down and Alfred joined him.

"Why were you both sleeping on the couch?" Alfred asked, "that's silly. There's not enough space."

Arthur smiled. The boy was right, despite being thoroughly comfortable last night, Arthur was certain that they had come close to falling off more than once. He ruffled Alfred's hair happily, "you're right. Sometimes adults do silly things, don't they?"

Alfred smiled and nodded.

About fifteen minutes later, they sat around the table, eating Francis's (and Matthew's) omelettes, when Francis's phone rang.

Arthur gave him a disapproving glare (he was opposed to phones at the table) but Francis just smiled apologetically, excused himself and went into the kitchen to take the call. When he returned, he was nibbling nervously on his bottom lip. Arthur, who was focused on his food, didn't notice immediately.

"Who was it?" the Brit asked.

"My boss," Francis replied, "he wants me to go to France. For two weeks."

Arthur's fork landed on his plate loudly. The sound echoed around the room and both Alfred and Matthew stared with shock at their father, who was very strict about table manners. Francis had somewhat expected such a reaction.

"Two weeks?" Arthur asked, "but...you can't...two weeks?"

"Let's talk in the kitchen," Francis suggested.

Arthur stood and followed the Frenchman. Once out of earshot of the boys, Francis began, "if I could decline, I would, but I cannot."

"If I could come with you, I would, Francis, believe me, but..." he sighed, "two weeks? What am I going to do with the boys?"

Francis shrugged, "you are clever. You will think of something."

"But, Francis...what am I going to do without you?" Arthur's words surprised even himself, who hadn't realised how dependant he had become on Francis.

"It's only two weeks. He could have sent me for longer," Francis comforted. Slowly, he reached out and took Arthur's hands in his own, "I need to leave on Thursday. I'll be back before you know it."

Without fully realising his actions, Arthur squeezed Francis's hands, "alright. Be safe."

"I'm not leaving yet. I still have four more days here," Francis joked.

Arthur feigned offense and threw Francis's hands away from himself. He turned to walk away, but Francis caught him around the waist and pulled him back, both of them laughing.

"Alright, alright, I get the point," Arthur laughed, "I'm not mad, you know."

"I know," Francis replied, "but I am having fun."

"I want to finish my breakfast," Arthur tried to sound serious, but Francis could hear the smile in his voice.

Francis pressed his lips to the top of Arthur's head, "alright. Let's go finish."

Arthur smiled and stopped struggling at the contact. He hummed contentedly.

Francis released Arthur, both of them somewhat disappointed, and they returned to the dining room, where the boys had, remarkably, continued eating without fighting over anything.

Thursday came far too quickly and it was time to say goodbye to Francis for two weeks. The boys were quiet and reserved, which was odd, as Francis hugged them in turn. Then Arthur drove him to the airport. As they prepared to part ways, they embraced tightly. Francis watched as Arthur turned back toward his car, having walked him right to the front door, and reached out to grab Arthur by the wrist, stopping him.

"Francis, you're going to miss your flight," Arthur complained as he turned back to the Frenchman.

Francis ignored his protest and instead pulled him in close, then tilted his chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Arthur stayed, frozen in place, even after Francis had pulled away.

"_Au revoir_, Arthur," Francis said.

Arthur finally snapped out of his reverie and, before Francis could turn away, threw his arms around the Frenchman's neck and kissed him roughly.

Francis returned the kiss eagerly and they stayed like that for a time.

Finally, Arthur pulled away, "now you really are going to miss your flight."

"I have time," Francis replied, picking up his suitcases. He pressed one final, quick kiss to Arthur's lips, then turned and walked away. Over his shoulder he called, "I will be back before you know it!"

"Is that a promise?" Arthur asked.

"_Oui_!" Francis replied.

Reluctantly, Arthur returned to his car.

Just as Thursday had come too quickly, two weeks passed too slowly. The time took its toll on everyone, and Matthew and Arthur both had times that they spent alone with their father, crying about missing their 'second father' as he was easily referred to. Arthur also spent time alone, crying to himself about how much he missed Francis. They called each other in any spare moment they had. Finally, the two weeks were up.

Arthur drove to the airport to pick Francis up. Matthew and Arthur were in school, and otherwise would have come (though they tried their damndest to get out of school to see Francis).

Arthur watched the door, eagerly anticipating the moment Francis would walk through. Said moment took its time arriving, but finally, the wavy blonde hair he had been so desiring to run his fingers through appeard, the beautiful blue eyes searching the crowd. Arthur waved excitedly and it took mere moments for Francis's eyes to settle on him.

Francis walked around the railing that separated them and pushed through the crowd to Arthur. There was a cell phone pressed to Francis's ear and he was speaking to the person on the other line. Arthur waited impatiently.

Finally, Francis said, "_Merci_. _Au revoir_." And hung up.

The moment the cell phone was far enough away from Francis's lips for Arthur's to fit, they were there. They held each other close in a passionate embrace, their lips locked, for what felt like an eternity.

Francis was the first to move away, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Arthur breathed before moving back in for another kiss.

Francis returned it eagerly, and somehow, their hands ended up intertwined, then they were walking to Arthur's car together.

The suitcases were shoved in the trunk and they both clambered in.

"How was France?" Arthur asked.

Francis sighed dramatically, "the city of love is nothing without the one you love. I will have to take you there some day to get the full experience."

Arthur felt colour rise to his cheeks, "the boys missed you."

"Were they well-behaved?" Francis asked.

Arthur shrugged, "as well-behaved as they always are."

Francis sighed, "I wish I could have helped."

"No, it's fine," Arthur assured, "I was fine."

Francis's hand slowly sneaked over and landed on Arthur's knee, then rubbed slow circles into Arthur's leg.

Arthur shuddered, "Francis, I'm driving!"

Francis merely laughed.

They arrived at Arthur's house and dropped the suitcases just inside the door. Arthur vowed that they would end up back at Francis's house eventually.

That never ended up happening. Somehow, the clothes in the suitcases managed to make their way into Arthur's washing machine, and they soon had their own space in Arthur's closet.

One day, shortly after Francis had returned from France, he arrived at Arthur's house in his car, which was odd because usually he was picked up by Arthur or walked. He walked in the front door and kissed Arthur, who was sitting on the couch. This had become the custom since Francis's return.

"Come with me," Francis said.

"Where?" Arthur asked.

"We are going out tonight," Francis replied.

"What? What are you talking about?" Arthur asked.

"I hired a babysitter for the boys so you and I could get some time alone."

"What?" Arthur repeated.

"Just come on. The babysitter's waiting in the car."

"Who did you get?"

"Elizaveta. That Hungarian girl you like."

Arthur stared at Francis, "why?"

"So we could spend time together. Without the boys," Francis replied patiently.

"A-alright," Arthur stood, "Matthew! Alfred!"

They ran down the stairs and both greeted Francis.

"We are going out tonight, boys," Francis explained. The boys' faces fell. "But you remember Elizaveta, right? She'll be babysitting."

"Yay!" Alfred cheered.

"She lets me help her cook, just like you, papa!" Matthew added.

Francis walked to the door and opened it. He gestured to the girl sitting in his car and she stepped out and entered the house.

"Hi, boys," Elizaveta greeted.

"Hi, Lizzy!" they both replied.

"Alright, now I'm forcing you two out of the house!" Elizaveta immediately took control and turned to Arthur and Francis, "don't worry about being back at a reasonable hour, either. I have this under control."

Arthur, still slightly in shock, let Francis pull him out of the house and into his car. Francis laughed as he drove them to a nice restaurant for dinner.

As they ate, Francis gently reached over and rested his hand on Arthur's.

"Arthur..." Francis began slowly.

"Yes, Francis?" Arthur asked, suddenly unable to look away.

"Arthur..._je t'aime. Je t'aimerai toujours_," Francis said.

Arthur didn't speak French very well, but he understood it exceptionally well, thanks to the time he had spent with Francis. He blushed deeply, "I-I love you too, Francis."

Francis smiled, "it is clear to me, Arthur, that you cannot raise those twins on your own. They are too much of a handful."

"Francis, what are you-"

Francis got out of his seat and knelt on one knee in front of Arthur, still holding his hand, "that is why, Arthur Kirkland," he reached into his pocket and drew out a small box, "I would like to ask you," he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver ring, "to do me the honour of marrying me."

Arthur stared down at the Frenchman in front of him, "Francis I...I don't know what to say...I mean...yes. YES!" He smiled widely, "Francis Bonnefoy, the honour is all mine."

Francis's eyes lit up and he slipped the ring onto Arthur's finger, then stood and kissed him. From elsewhere in the restaurant, people were clapping at them, but they hardly noticed.

Francis eventually sat back down and their fingers intertwined.

Suddenly, Arthur saw something over Francis's shoulder. A woman, at the table against the wall, was eating with her husband, and she was staring right at him.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

His fingers clamped down on Francis's hand, causing the Frenchman to turn and see what had caught his fiance's attention.

Arthur swallowed hard. The woman stared at him with hard eyes, then she smiled slightly, picked up her wine glass, and raised it. The gesture read 'congratulations'.

Arthur nodded slightly. His breathing was escalating and becoming frantic.

Francis turned back to him and ran his thumb soothingly on the back of Arthur's hand, "you know her?"

"Yes," Arthur whispered.

"Who is she?" Francis was afraid he knew the answer.

Arthur didn't give one. But the name rang in his head. It stung him, even though she had offered congratulatory wishes.

And Francis was right about who he thought she was.

_Alice._

The boys were ecstatic to hear the news, though they couldn't figure out why Francis and Arthur were so tired the next morning. Or why their hair was so messy. And neither man was willing to tell them.

The brush with Alice was forgotten by the day of the wedding. The boys were wonderful. They both dressed up nicely and remained silent and didn't even complain when Francis had spent lord knows how long brushing their hair to look less like ten-year-old boys and more like refined young men at their dad's wedding.

The transition was remarkably easy. It took two weeks to move Francis's things out of his house and into Arthur's, another week to sell the things Francis would no longer need or no longer wanted, and then his house went on the market. It took time, but it eventually sold.

The biggest transition for Arthur was getting used to sleeping next to someone again. Before getting married, he had only slept with Francis twice, both times on the couch, and before that, the last time he slept with anyone had been with Alice, and that was seven years before he even met Francis.

He quickly came to expect the face of his lover next to him when he woke up every morning, though, and the second body warmed his lonely bed.

They lay in bed at night and talked quite often. Their skirmishes were few and far between, as they had adjusted to life together before even being engaged. The main battles were over things in the bedroom and bathroom, since they were the only things that they hadn't shared before.

Over the years, the boys grew up. Alfred had a bit of a rebellious streak toward the beginning of his teen years, but it was short-lived and well handled by the two parents. The boys still fought, of course. That never changed, but their interests developed. Alfred became the sought-after star of high school that all the girls swoon over, and Matthew became the soft-spoken smart boy who got attention for being mysterious. It didn't come as too big of a surprise when the boys both blew off all the girls that came after them and began looking for other boys. Which somehow made them even more desireable (though Arthur never managed to figure out how that worked).

Then, one day, a man appeared asking for Arthur. Francis didn't know who the man was, but Arthur quickly recognised him as his nephew Peter, who had moved to America and hadn't returned for years. The two of them caught up, laughing happily, while Francis prepared supper for five.

And now, we have caught up to the present.

* * *

"Tell me Arthur, how did you meet your husband?" Peter asked.

Arthur sighed and sipped his tea, "well, I suppose I should start with my wife."

"Your wife?" Peter cocked his head and sipped his tea.

"Yes," Arthur replied, "she was very beautiful. Her name was Alice. We were childhood sweethearts. That's all you need to know. We grew up together, until high school. She was sent away to a private school for girls. I missed her terribly. I was so lonely. You should have seen me back then. You wouldn't have recognised me. She came back after graduation. We attended college together, and eventually became a couple, but she was different than she had been before high school. I still don't know what changed her. Anyway, we got married, and I was happy, but...she wasn't. She left me the day she was released from the hospital after giving birth. She just handed me my sons and walked off."

"I'm so sorry," Peter offered.

"Don't be," Arthur smiled, "anyway, seven years later, I decided to drink away my sorrows, which I never should have done, but Francis found me. He drove me home, then somehow dropped into my lap. He was like some kind of angel and helped me raise the boys. When they were nine, he proposed to me. And, obviously, I accepted. We married just after the boys' tenth birthday."

Suddenly, a blonde head ran into the room. The hair was ruffled and a cowlick stood up near the back. His blue eyes were smothered in laughter and in his arms he held a stuffed polar bear.

"Alfred, you fucktard!" a voice declared as another blonde head, this one with shoulder length hair and violet eyes, entered, "give him back!"

"Matthew! Watch your tongue! We have company!" Arthur scolded.

Matthew and Alfred turned to Peter.

"Oh, hi!" Alfred greeted cheerily, "I'm Alfred. And that's Matthew."

"A pleasure," Peter replied, sipping his tea.

"Dad, Al stole Kuma again," Matthew complained. He may have been seventeen years old, but that bear was still the most important thing he owned. He never slept with it or played with it anymore, of course, but it sat in his room in a place of reverence.

"Matthieu," Francis's voice called from the kitchen, "_volez Tony_."

Matthew's eyes lit up and he ran from the room, "thanks, papa!"

"What? What did you say?" Alfred demanded.

Francis said nothing.

"Papa! I heard Tony's name! What did you tell him to do?" Alfred's eyes suddenly widened when he figured it out, "no! Mattie come back! Don't you DARE touch Tony! You can have Kuma back!" He dashed out.

A loud, evil-sounding snicker was heard from upstairs.

"So, those are my sons," Arthur introduced awkwardly.

Peter laughed, "they're definitely yours, Uncle Arthur."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means mum told me stories about you when you were growing up."

"Your mother's stories are bound to be corrupt by the fact that she was my sister. She's biased."

"They were great stories anyway," Peter smirked.

Matthew re-entered the room then, looking very smug, "dad, does papa need any help with supper?"

"Ask your papa. He's the one that's making the food," Arthur answered.

Matthew ran from the room and into the kitchen just as Alfred entered, looking somber, "he hid Tony."

"Well, you stole Kuma first," Arthur pointed out, "this is between you and your brother. Now, please. I am trying to entertain our guest."

"Oh believe me, I am thoroughly entertained," Peter chuckled, "do you have any idea what happened to Alice?"

"No. I saw her once. It was on the night that Francis proposed. But I haven't seen her since," Arthur replied.

"Have you ever wondered what happened to her?"

"Yes. Many times. But she looked happy that night, so I can only assume that she found happiness, too."

"Do you still love her?"

Arthur was silent for a long time, then he looked Peter dead in the eye and said, "no. Not anymore."

Peter smiled slightly, "well, I'm glad you found happiness and love after she left."

"Me too," Arthur returned the smile.

"_Moi aussi_," Francis suddenly appeared behind Arthur and wrapped his arms around the Brit, "supper's ready."

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed that! I know I had fun writing it! I actually stayed up till 4:45AM last night writing it (oops) then I finished it this afternoon. But I'm still on Christmas vacation, so it's not like I had to be anywhere or anything (I'm still in pajamas!). **

**So, yeah, just some FrUK fluff and all that good stuff.**

**One more thing, I use an online translator for the French (because mine is far from up to par) so let me know if there are any mistakes. Also, I'm neglecting any translations for this because I figured there's not much and for the most part, you can figure it out. Sorry if that bugs you, that's just how I chose to do it this time round (I actually almost never leave out the translations). **

**Oh, and this was greatly inspired and heavily based off of a video on YouTube: www. youtube watch? v=czAdwfu O94g&list # =FLE6Qa2Es _1_luqk Y9TNTiqg &index=1 (leave out the spaces and that random #, obviously), so thank you to the creator of the video (which I do NOT own) and all the people who made the pictures in the video (which I also do NOT own) and thank you to Daniel Powter for the title of this fic (even though he doesn't know it exists).**

**And finally, thank you for reading it! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and I have a few ideas for sequels, if you want one. And if you do want a sequel, do you want it to focus on Alice, maybe? Or on Matthew and Alfred's love lives (and if so, I need to know which pairings you guys want because I'm willing to ship just about anyone)? And, I also have an idea for a prequel, if you want to read that. It'd be about Arthur and Alice growing up, and probably a little bit about Francis's family. So leave me a review or PM me and let me know if you're interested!**

_**~Maya**_


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